


fire burns there too

by orphan_account



Series: twitter saw this first [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Demon!Tsukki, M/M, angel!kuroo, slight cigarette use, slight self mutilation, slightly depressive themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26207353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I know I’m dead but I don’t think there’s anything quite like the desperation of wanting to be alive,”ortsukishima is a demon from the ninth circle of hell and kuroo is an angel that can't seem to stay away.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Series: twitter saw this first [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1903288
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	fire burns there too

**Author's Note:**

> tw!! if you haven't read the tags, there's a small scene of self mutilation and slightly depressive themes
> 
> this is just something that i wrote a while ago, hope you enjoy!

The next time he sees Tsukishima, he’s brandishing a steel lighter in one hand and a small cigarette in another. Kuroo doesn’t mention it when he sits down. He does, however, wrinkle his nose at the foul scent. 

Tsukishima glances over, vicious eyes noticing Kuroo’s apprehensive behavior towards it. He smiles in a sadistic kind of delight. His teeth glint dangerously as he breathes out a hazy cloud of smoke, enjoying the way that Kuroo squirms as it floats past him.

“You don’t like it?” Tsukishima says offhandedly as he puffs another grey cloud, his feigned apathetic tone hiding the taunting lilt in his voice. Kuroo twists his mouth, knowing that Tsukishima knows the answer but just wants to hear Kuroo admit it. His lithe fingers are still flicking away, making a small flame pop in and out of existence.

Kuroo doesn’t talk yet. He doesn’t want to get the taste stuck in his taste buds because of the slight chance that if they kiss, it’ll be all he’ll remember. Kuroo presses his lips together and waits for smoke to dissipate before opening his mouth.

“Not quite my favorite of your habits,” 

“It's a little cold where I stay,” Tsukishima chuckles as he flicks his lighter, sparking another flame and extinguishing it just as quickly. Kuroo thinks of where Tsukishima belongs, far below with the traitors in the ninth circle of hell. Perhaps that explains why Tsukishima can’t be without a flame by his side. The memories of the bone chilling cold creep into his mind without the perpetual burn. “I’d like to have a little reprieve,” 

The silence gradually envelops in, interrupted by the rhythmic metal clink of the gears on Tsukishima’s lighter. Kuroo’s eyes are drawn to the muted brilliance of it, secretly coaxing it to grow bigger. 

The small flame reminds him of the seraphim fires that adorn those above. It paints the world around him with rich shades of reds, oranges, and yellows that Kuroo finds himself lost in with every passing second. It comes with the feelings of safety and warmth, familiarity with its controlled chaos. 

Yet in Tsukishima's hands, it becomes anything but controlled. Kuroo feels the bile rise in his throat as Tsukishima openly mocks the flame, disparaging its beautiful ability to purify. Instead the blond teases it as it licks his palm. 

“Don’t do that,” Kuroo bats his hand away when Tsukishima lowers his palm farther towards the open flame. Tsukishima’s smile only gets wider as he flexes the hand that he was burning and repeats his actions. 

“You don’t like me smoking, so why can’t I do this instead?” Tsukishima mocks him as he flicks the lighter again. Kuroo curls his lip as the smell of Tsukishima’s burning flesh starts to fill the air. Tsukishima doesn’t even wince, he simply holds in place and watches the wisps of smoke ride through the air. 

“Stop,” Kuroo reprimands him, adding a little more force to his words. He tries to push Tsukishima’s hands again. Instead of allowing the action, Tsukishima uses his burnt hand to clutch into his wrist. “Stop it right now,” 

“Stop it,” Tsukishima imitates him, lips curled in a cruel taunt as he throws Kuroo’s hands back at him. Kuroo rubs his wrist, already seeing the imprint of where Tsukishima held him beginning to show. Red spots bloom on his tanned skin, like a dandelion growing from a crack in a piece of cement.

“I’d rather you smoke cigarettes,” Kuroo mutters as he places his hand back onto his lap. There’s an awkward pause when the blond doesn’t respond. It’s not often that his words aren’t returned, usually with poison laced within the syllables. He looks up at Tsukishima and sees disappointment furrowed in his eyebrows. 

It’s almost as if Tsukishima _wanted_ him to push a little more, fight a little harder. It’s gone before Kuroo can take action and he feels no need to go looking for it. 

Tsukishima hums, lost in thought, before indulging himself with another cigarette. Kuroo holds his breath again as the wind blows the smoke into his face. Tsukishima sends him an apologetic look that Kuroo doubts had ever actually meant an apology. 

“They’re a lot more fun than you think,” Tsukishima flashes his canines at Kuroo as a roguish look settles on his face, “Give me a little buzz,” 

“You guys aren’t allowed to feel those things,” Kuroo looks at him with disbelief. Tsukishima’s smile deflates and he sighs, slumping against the bench. Kuroo feels a little guilt well in his stomach as Tsukishima slings his arm behind Kuroo, brazen fingers brushing against his other shoulder. 

“Nothing gets past you,” Tsukishima clicks his tongue as he rolls the cigarette between his pointer and middle finger. “I can always pretend,” 

“Pretend to feel a buzz?” Kuroo asks, his voice laced with uncertainty. Tsukishima lets out a loud laugh, the sound that an old piano makes when it’s completely out of tune. Discordant and haunting as it echoes in his mind. 

It doesn’t feel like the same laugh he heard when they first met. Kuroo would’ve liked to have heard that laugh when Tsukishima was alive. Maybe it would’ve meant something else back then. 

“I like to pretend that every time I smoke, I get another second closer to death,” Kuroo tenses at his words and twists his head to the side to look at him. Tsukishima’s head is cocked back, lazily leaning against the bench’s backrest. His pale, chapped lips purses into another ‘o’ shape as the smoke pushes past his mouth. “I know I’m dead but I don’t think there’s anything quite like the desperation of wanting to be alive,” 

Tsukishima cracks open an eye, slowly moving it over Kuroo’s rigid body. Kuroo silently sends thanks that he's already sitting. The weight of Tsukishima’s leer is more than enough to make him collapse to the ground. 

The hunger in Tsukishima’s eyes is frightening, animalistic in a sense. Almost as if Kuroo is his prey and finally got him ensnared in the blond’s awaiting traps. Kuroo averts his eyes, hands clenching and unclenching erratically, as he struggles to get control of himself. 

He jolts as a fingertip grazes his jawline, the faint touch longing to deepen and become something more. Instead it hooks under his chin, gently pushing it to face Tsukishima with a light touch he didn’t realize the blond could have. Kuroo’s mouth runs dry as he finds himself staring into his eyes. The sun begins to set, shining a light reminiscent of the highlights of amber in Tsukishima’s eyes. 

Kuroo restrains himself from physically shaking his head; that wasn’t exactly true, it wasn’t quite amber. It was more akin to honey. Honey, pouring out of every fleck of his eyes, sticking to every part of Kuroo’s body as it drew him further and further in. 

He feels it dragging him down, the liquid extremely viscous as it tugs him further and further. He feels it rising to his chin until it eventually infests his mouth. It assaults his taste buds with such a sickly sweet taste that he wants to spit out. It continues to rise, higher and higher, until it reaches right above his cupid’s bow. For a second, Kuroo thinks that it's going to suffocate him.

Suddenly the taste disappears and the feeling of drowning along with it. Kuroo’s eyes fly open, finding himself unable to recall when he’d closed his eyes in the first place. The light blinds him, the sudden change from darkness to such a brilliance leaves dark spots on his vision.

He blinks it away and reels back when he realizes how close Tsukishima’s face was to his. Tsukishima’s laugh follows him as he pushes away. He can’t help but think of how little space there was between them. So close that Kuroo could taste the smoke that’s curling on his pink lips.

The ghost kisses from the smoke lightly pluck at the sides of his face as Tsukishima’s eyes glow with a brilliant radiance. Not only with the setting sun but with an amusement that seemed childish―an unbridled joy that only comes with youth. 

Kuroo would like to believe that maybe this is what Tsukishima would’ve looked like, had they met in another lifetime. His eyes quickly resume its muted colors and dull stare and Kuroo’s chest pangs in protest. He would do anything Tsukishima demands, if it meant that he could see it again.

Tsukishima leans away from his face and returns to his original position. The wood digs into the nape of his neck as he rests his head against it. He slowly loses himself in the warmth of the sun, something he doesn’t usually get to indulge in back home. 

“Just kidding,” Tsukishima says, his voice hoarse from all the smoke that passed through it. Kuroo cracks a little smile as Tsukishima wrinkles his nose in distaste. “What a terrible reason to smoke, what a waste,” 

“You don’t feel that way?” Kuroo asks as he steals a cigarette. He doesn’t bother going for the lighter, it’s not for him to smoke. He just wants the feeling of rolling it around―wants to feel what Tsukishima feels every time he picks it up. 

The paper crinkles under his touch, the sound of paper all too familiar to his well trained ears. He pinches it lightly and watches the creases form, leaving a small dent where his fingers once were.

“Softer,” Kuroo thinks, “It’s softer than I thought it would,”

“Maybe a little bit,” Tsukishima muses, “Don’t look at it like that,”

“Like what?” Kuroo distractedly asks, his eyes still focused on each minute detail he comes across. 

“You look at it with reverence,” Tsukishima almost spits out as he snatches the small cigarette back without looking at Kuroo “I want it to be my death, don’t make it something beautiful,” 

Kuroo scowls at his words, more so at the implication that he would glorify such a thing when he wouldn’t even dare to breath it in. Regardless, he doesn’t move to take another one in his hands. 

He leans his head against Tsukishima’s shoulder and focuses his attention on the river. It reflects hues of vibrant oranges, mixing softly with faint pinks and yellows. He notices that Tsukishima smells a lot like smoke but there’s something more. Something that lingers in the undertones, something content to hide in the shadows. 

He breathes it in a little more, trying to figure it out. Tsukishima shifts under his weight, unknowingly allowing Kuroo to smell his scent a little better.

“Ah,” Kuroo’s eyelashes flutter with recognition, “He smells like night,” The quiet silence of the night, disrupted only by faint chirps of wild life or people who are desperate for the barest amount of attention. Tsukishima smells like people hiding under the guise of darkness, of anonymity. He smells like how the sky looks as it covers the world with a blanket of darkness and silence.

Tsukishima’s sky is so dark that you never truly know whether your eyes are open or closed. It’s the purest darkness that Kuroo has ever had the privilege of falling into.

Kuroo breathes the smell in deeper, wanting the scent to be trapped in his lungs, if only to remember that feeling a little longer. The smoke slowly invades him, tickling his throat as he struggles to keep it down. He feels slightly lightheaded and that’s when he realizes that he forgot to exhale, too busy trying to lose himself in the heavy fragrance.

He gasps for air, needing the cool relief in his lungs. He ends up coughing violently when he sucks in a little too much. Tsukishima doesn’t move away from him yet he also doesn’t move to help. His inaction speaks louder than the blond cares to admit.

As the coughing subsides, a dull buzz lingers on the back of his mind. It leaves his head slightly dizzy but there’s a serenity in the chaos that Kuroo wants more of. Kuroo finally realizes why cigarettes can be so addicting. 

Tsukishima’s shoulder bobs up and down, asking for his attention, which Kuroo instantly gives him. He looks up and finds himself unable to breathe again but this time it’s because he’s drowning all over again.

This time the honey has changed. His eyes seem heavier, almost as if Tsukishima can see Kuroo struggling to keep his head above and can’t find it in himself to lend a hand. The honey crystallizes and Kuroo is trapped within it. He looks over at the blond with such a somber look. He’s still so young, so heart wrenchingly beautiful. Kuroo can’t help but wonder, what kind of betrayals lay in his ancient heart?

“Promise me something,” Tsukishima whispers, his usual biting tone fading into something that Kuroo thinks sounds like desperation. Kuroo frowns and tilts his head to the side. 

“What?” Kuroo asks, more so out of surprise than the need to repeat his request. 

“Promise me,” Tsukishima finally turns towards Kuroo. His shoulders slump as the tension oozes out of his muscles with an air of defeat. Almost as if he was resigned to his words before they could even be given the chance to be spoken aloud, “Promise me you’ll never look at me like that again,” 

“What are you talking about?” Kuroo asks, genuinely confused and slightly hurt. The pressure in his chest feels heavier now. Tsukishima shakes his head, refusing to elaborate, and instead repeats himself. 

“Kuroo. Kuroo. Promise me you’ll never look at me like that again.” 

“I...I promise Tsukki,” Kuroo stammers out, relinquishing any hold he had in the blond as he leaned away. Tsukishima’s face falls at the lack of touch but the walls that Kuroo had torn down have already been fortified. 

Tsukishima inhales shakily and gets up the seat. He doesn’t turn back around as he takes another step and disappears from view. His absence leaves Kuroo with so many unanswered questions. Only one taking precedence over the others. 

“How was I looking at him?” Kuroo’s voice trembles as he looks at his hands. He rakes his hand through his hair, pushing away a few stray strands that blew across his face from the wind. 

The air tastes cleaner now, purer, but Kuroo finds that he can’t breathe without the smoke. Kuroo sighs heavily and gets up, just thankful that Tsukishima didn’t notice him crossing his fingers behind his back.

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey! come talk to me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/sunaschuupet)


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